


Ad Meliora

by YumKiwiDelicious



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M, Why isnt this a thing, benoit knows all, terrible flirting, these dummies deserves each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumKiwiDelicious/pseuds/YumKiwiDelicious
Summary: “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s good that you don’t lie,” he insisted, one large hand raised to grip at the back of his neck. His eyes darted back and forth between meeting hers and glancing out the window. "It’s...cute.”
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Lieutenant Elliott
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	Ad Meliora

**Author's Note:**

> title is a Latin phrase that means "toward better things"

She had stayed outside until they were all gone. The Thrombeys, proverbial tails tucked between their legs, scampered off in all directions like roaches fleeing the light. They slid into cars that most likely would be repossessed to her soon and Marta watched them drive off through the trees, Harlan’s blanket tucked around her shoulders and his favorite coffee cup snug in her grip. The sight of their tail lights disappearing around the elephant statue had her exhaling a huge breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Back in the mansion, things were still busy yet somehow quieter than ever. No Ransom shouting sarcastically over Richard and Walt’s loud insistence he get a job. No Joni ironically countering the noise by turning up some gaudy radio station which would drive Meg, Donna, and Jacob to complain. No Linda trying and failing to bring them all under control. No Harlan laughing. Just cops milling around ‘securing the scene’ as Trooper Wagner had explained.

Marta sank into one of the many armchairs and tried to gather her thoughts. Starting then a lot of responsibilities were falling to her and she didn’t want to mess up; to squander the huge opportunity Harlan had blessed her with. She put a hand to her brow, eyes falling shut as she started attempting to plan out her first visit to the publishing house, moving her mother and sister in, setting up a stipend for Fran’s family and Great Nana Thrombey. The list of to-do’s seemed endless.

“Ms. Cabrera?”

Marta jumped, eyes flying open at the voice just beside her ear. She was slumped lower than she remembered being and the sunlight from the windows had faded. A lamp was on in the corner and a cold puddle of coffee had spilled onto her pant leg. She blinked up at the voice, rubbing sleep quickly from her lashes.

“Detective Elliott.” Her voice was raspy from sleep. The detective's serious brown eyes glanced over her rumpled form and it finally clicked for Marta that she had fallen asleep in the chair. “I’m sorry...I must’ve-”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” he interrupted gently, waving off her mumbled apologies, “You’ve had a big day. I just wanted to let you know that we’re finally all finished here and should be heading out.”

Marta noticed for the first time that the house was quiet. Actually quiet. The din of police officers picking up evidence, snapping photos, and stomping up and down Harlan’s creaky staircase had disappeared while she was sleeping. She nodded, still stuck in that foggy place between dreams and awake, as she set down her mug and pushed the blanket aside to survey the room. They were in the downstairs study and Harlan’s desk sat cluttered yet so very empty across from them. Marta felt herself deflate when her eyes flitted over it. How was she meant to fill that seat?

In the armchair beside her the former nurse was shocked to see none other than Detective Blanc, head dipped low and chest rising evenly in the pattern of a man dozed off. If that weren’t enough evidence, the light snores coming from the southerner proved he had had a day nearly as long as Marta’s and had also fallen prey to the comforts of the chair. She smiled a private little smile to herself over the man who had all but come to her rescue in this madness and looked back up at Elliott who had been watching her get her bearings silently this whole time. Her smile stayed in place.

“Thank you,” she whispered genuinely, adjusting her volume now that she knew Benoit was sleeping nearby, “For everything you did to help me.”

The young man seemed perplexed, but grinned all the same and Marta noticed the way it pulled at his cheeks. He tipped an imaginary hat to her humbly; awkwardly.

“I have to give it up to Benny on this one,” he grumbled good-naturedly, shooting his surprise partner a wry look over his shoulder. Blanc snored on. “I was ready to write this whole thing off as a simple suicide.”

They shared a beat of silence that was all at once tense, awkward, embarrassed, and sobering. Because they both knew that had Harlan’s death been immediately reported as a suicide, Ransom would still be a free man, skulking around out there looking for a way to get Marta out of the picture. Not to mention the rest of the Thrombeys would still be breathing down her neck. She wiped a clammy hand over the baby hairs there then and gave the detective a shaky smile. She was sure it came off as more of a grimace.

She mused, “Well then, it’s good Detective Blanc was here to set us straight.”

They lapsed into another silence during which time Marta observed the young lieutenant out of the corner of her eye. He was tall standing there beside her, some may even say lanky. His frame, though clearly lean, had been hidden beneath a series of heavy coats since their meeting and she was surprisingly pleased to see him free of that extra layer for once. With his coat thrown over his arm, the detective’s body was indeed lean, but wiry with muscle and his suspenders pulled snug across a broad back and shoulders. His free hand, resting on his belt, was large and had long fingers. And of course, Marta noted internally...he had a very handsome face.

“Ms. Cabrera.” He cleared his throat over her name making it sound like a wolfish growl and Marta jumped. She realized that at some point, unintentionally, her sideways gazing had become straight on staring. The nurse’s face grew hot with embarrassment as her stomach gave a little flip.

“Please,” she insisted to her lap, “Call me Marta.”

The young man raised a brow and his mouth quirked in a small half-smile that only made him more attractive. Marta’s gut gurgled. Blanc snored on in the background.

“Marta,” he tested, continuing when she gave him an encouraging nod, “I suppose this next part would be a bit odd if I didn’t tell you  _ my  _ first name.”

“It is not Elliott?”

Another half-smile.

“That’s my last name. My first name’s Lakeith.”

Marta curved her lips around the name, “Lakeith Elliott?” He returned her nod and they sat there in silence, nodding at each other in the big empty house. She had too much tact and personal experience to call the name ‘unusual’ or ‘exotic’, but it was definitely beautiful and she liked it. She told him as such.

“Yeah,” he drawled, rocking back in a casual manner Marta had not seen throughout the investigation. Both hands were shoved into his pockets at this point. “Some of my friends call me Keith.” The nurse glanced at Benoit. The detective did not. “Blanc is  _ not  _ my friend.”

As if hearing his name, the older man snorted and huffed and yanked himself from sleep almost violently. Marta stifled a sort of manic giggle in the sleeve of her sweater as Elliott began harmlessly pestering the southerner about his advanced age. She wagered the two men  _ were  _ indeed friends by this point. If Blanc felt offended at all by the two youths getting a chuckle at his expense, he hid it well and instead merely waved his partner off as he took to his feet. 

“Now, I was not truly unconscious to my surroundings,” he insisted, patting down his front as if looking for a pipe to stick between his teeth. Or at least that’s what Marta pictured as she gazed up at her hero in an adoring fashion. “For instance, I was awake enough to hear you two gracelessly circling the arena of what could only be a proposal made by one party or both to attend a meal.”

The two stared at him uncomprehendingly. Blanc blinked owlishly back.

“That is to say,” he pointed at Elliott, “You,” his digit shifted to Marta, “Were about to ask her to dinner.” The two young people had varying reactions, but both essentially berated Benoit for his lack of manners and called him silly and nosy and pigheaded. The private detective merely shrugged. “I’m just making a guess based on what I observed.” 

His smarmy tone made it so he did not need to add the well known fact that he was a  _ very  _ observant man. The detective and the nurse both muttered and griped over the accusation, eventually convincing Blanc to rescind his statement, though he left the room shortly thereafter with a pleased air. He called Marta ‘Watson’ and insisted he’d be in touch and then let Elliott know he would be waiting in the car so not to doddle. Lakeith and Marta glanced at each other warily.

“Ms. Cabrera-”

“Marta.”

“Marta,” Elliott corrected himself, eyes focused somewhere just above her head on the armchair. “I hope you know Blanc is being totally inappropriate and I would never presume to…”

“Oh no, no,” she insisted, waving him off as she finally stood up. Her back was stiff and she winced as she maneuvered around to place the chair between them. He was much taller than her. “I know the detective was just being ridiculous!”

“I mean unless you want to...?”

“What?”

“I just mean…” Lakeith let the sentence hang, looking somewhat hunched in on himself like he was trying to lean over to meet her at eye level but didn’t know how to do so naturally. “You did throw up your only meal today.”

Marta felt her whole face flush as she remembered the man staring intently at her had seen her vomit.  _ Twice _ . Once into a clay fish. It was so embarrassing she felt the little flip in her stomach turn into a full on twinge. Marta could only imagine the face she must have been making as Elliott started to backtrack and apologize and reassure. The nurse watched him through glassy eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s good that you don’t lie,” he insisted, one large hand raised to grip at the back of his neck. His eyes darted back and forth between meeting hers and glancing out the window. Blanc was waiting. “It’s...cute.”

“Detective-”

“Lakeith.”

“Lakeith,” Marta corrected herself, reaching up a hand idly to brush her hair back, no idea what state it was in after her nap. “I have lots to do now. Lots of responsibilities. I can’t go to dinner.”

It was true enough. She had to figure out if she still wanted to help Meg or not. She needed to look through every room and see what items were useful, donatable, or sentimental to Linda. There was so much to do and she couldn’t in good faith just go traipsing off with some handsome police officer who had helped clear her name. Still, she hated to see the way Elliott’s face dropped down into a passive wall that completely shuttered off all the warmth he had been exuding up until that moment. Marta shivered in its absence and rushed to finish what she wanted to say before the man could apologize and excuse himself from the room. Possibly from her life.

“But...maybe sometime next week we could…” She let the sentence hang, trying to stand up taller and look less like some poor broken down little thing. The detective eyed her in obvious surprise before another smile, a full one this time, split his face and he chuckled lowly to himself, a hand brushing smoothly over his mustache. He was appraising her. She wondered what he saw.

Finally, he nodded. “Sounds good.”

She nodded back. “Blanc can give you my number and...we can talk more until then.”

They sat there in silence, nodding at each other in the big empty house, until suddenly there was a rather loud car horn blaring from the expansive front yard. Marta jumped, but Lakeith assured her it was only Benoit being obnoxious. He insisted it was time for him to take his leave and she walked him to the door, each one of his steps making up two of her smaller ones. Outside, the sun was all but gone and Blanc was fiddling with the car radio. The detective and the nurse shared a glance and then he was tipping his imaginary hat to her once more.

“Ma’am.”

He left then, bickering loudly with Blanc and Trooper Wagner who had apparently been waiting to leave this whole time. Marta stayed outside until they were all gone and the sight of their tail lights disappearing around the elephant statue had her exhaling a huge breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Back in the mansion she was alone and she wasn’t a huge fan of the feeling so immediately rushed to grab her phone and call her mom and sister. She could pick them up to spend the night and they’d worry about everything else tomorrow.

When Marta picked up her cell a text from an unknown number flashed across her broken screen with a simple message that left her smiling.

**_Lakeith ;)_ **


End file.
